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credits

released December 7, 2015

All songs written, performed, and produced by Cannonball Statman in Brooklyn, NY, between 2009 and 2011. Album cover photographed by Cannonball Statman in Brooklyn, NY on January 1st, 2011.

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Track Name: Who is Her
Interior: my room, late at night.
Sit up here with a typewriter; try to figure out what's right.
Cut to the scene where the monster dies,
cut to the scene where the monster lives;
I could stay up here for hours.

I'm just a parasite, and I'm taking control of your life,
and I know, with your directorial prowess,
you'll find a way to kick me out.

Are you ready for the last flashback,
as everything flashes before your eyes?
Are you ready to give it all up,
at the beginning of your life?
Are you ready to die?
Who is Her? Who is Her,
and who Her is will be revealed
as a character inside your film,
and now, you know you are never really talking to me;
you're talking to Her.

Exterior: the flea market, searching for a prop;
scout locations in the park, then back to run-throughs of the script.
Fade to black.
Fade into the cast and crew.
Track Name: Out of Nowhere
Out of nowhere, he came
from the city, into the woods,
where he bought (from a stranger),
a drum.

Just so that they could say,
in the morning paper:
"out of nowhere, he came
from the city, into the woods,
to buy a drum."
Track Name: Sunburnt
In sunburnt rooms, she danced from place to place;
without a doubt, it was always there,
taking away her light, as if she was always in the dark,
looming over her.
And as she danced from face to face,
no one could put her in the right place.
They couldn't figure out what was wrong with her;
they forgot about her.

And I don't know when I can see her;
they won't tell me when I can see her.
There must be something I can learn from her,
and I know I must never forget her.

In sunburnt rooms, we danced from place to place,
face to face; without a doubt, she was in pain,
a pain that could only come from within a darker side of her,
and to her, it came from the air.
And as we danced from face to face,
no one could put us in the right place.
I didn't want to lose her and her face,
but it became a blur, as her head started spinning.

In sunburnt rooms, we dance into first place;
they can keep a better eye on the ones in first place.
In sunburnt rooms, we fall asleep, excited,
preparing for the ordinary routine.
Track Name: Console
There's a rope, it goes from me to you;
it's like I'm flying, and I think it's real.
There's a rope, it goes from me to you;
I'm tired of hearing it's all in my head.

I haven't come to ask you to change your mind,
I haven't come to ask you to change your ways;
I've come to tell you that every night I take this rope
directly to you.

There's a rope, and it takes me back to you;
it's like I'm dying, and I think it's real.
There's a rope that takes me back to you;
I'm tired of hearing it's all in your head.

And I'm always here to haunt you,
to take my revenge on you,
because you feel this pain, too,
don't you?
If you had the strength to get rid of me,
why didn't you do it yourself,
or at least,
without these mind games?

You are like a poison;
poison me to death.
And I'm here to sweep you
off your feet;
you stare at my fate, and say
"that's for me",
and I look so powerful
when you sleep,

and through the rolling streams;
the treetops above.

Yeah, I live my life in these woods
to search for other places;
places outside the world of apathy and confusion,
places where everything makes sense.

I thought I loved you before,
but you lived in a world that wasn't mine;
coffee with milk and sugar from a night down the block.

Yeah, and I would talk to you
inside one way mirrors after school;
fell in the mud,
but the police said we were clean.

Yeah, and everyone's a lost cause in their own magazines;
everyone's a traitor in their own way,
and everyone's so worried worried worried
that the lock won't lock.
Everyone forgot their keys last night,

and everyone was talking about how you could get this raincoat
for a million dollars, from the man at the train station.
Yeah, and everyone was talking about how much of a facade it was;
everyone forgot their keys last night.

In the days of November, yeah,
I will get my car;
yeah, I will drive on into everything.

In the days of December, you
will take my life,
but you won't go anywhere.

In the days of November,
I will get my car;
drive down the coast of every country by the ocean.

In the days of December, you
will take my life,
and there'll be no one left to Console me.

There's a rope, I take from me to you;
looks like I'm dying. Well, I think it's real.
There's a rope, I take from me to you;
I'm tired of hearing it's all in my head.
Track Name: Bubble
Stop painting your canvas with the paint I need to paint my room.
She causes a scene just to have someone to talk to.
She writes the name on her wall; thinks he'll see it.
Well, then he'll care.

Here we are in the bubble;
it's getting hard not to laugh.
Here we are in the bubble;
we live in the bubble.
'Cause everyday that she walks outside,
she can only see the sunlight.

Stop painting your canvas with the paint I need to paint my room.
A computer helps me breathe; I don't know anything.
Track Name: August (Collector's Edition)
Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today.
She takes her trailer back to the trailer park.
Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today.
She takes her gown and bracelet out of the trunk.

She lives in a different zone;
the only one with the courage to die alone.
She lives in a different zone;
the only one who could save her is already gone.

I used to live in a small house,
but death surrounded that house;
I would walk around, just feeling all trapped and suffocated.
I used to live in a small house,
but no one lived inside that house;
I would invite people in, but they'd just to try to burn the house down.

It's a game of "you lose the game,
and everything turns in the wrong way";
people modify your emotions through simple gestures.
It's a game of "you lose the game,
and everything turns in the wrong way";
people do things to you that you've done to them.

Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today.
What a day to be the collector, and to be collected.
Good morning; hope it doesn't rain today.
What a day to spend the rest of your life alone.

You live in a different zone;
the only one who possesses total control.
You live in a different zone;
the only one who could save you, you ignore.

I love this song; I love this song.
I don't know if you're paying attention.

And I don't know why;
yeah, it's a dying planet.
And I don't know if
you are gonna take me off of it.
And I don't know why;
yeah, it's a hard world.
And I don't know why
you want to make it harder.

We live in different apartments now;
we still keep in touch.

There's some sort of evil in you;
I don't know who you are anymore.
Track Name: Gold Became a Useless Cover
The three parted ways,
in exchange for a brief trip to the far corners of the human eye
where dogs still bark onto recordings of songs about you,
written by our fathers and shoved down your throat
(like you weren't even looking);
yes I said it,
and for once you were the victim.
YES!
I failed with you as you failed with me, and
gold became a useless cover.

To paint oneself with euphemisms to lie,
and a lie is only to avoid campaigning in other dimensions
for spare change
and to parade into unknown corners of
Brooklyn trapped inside the neon clown.
Gold became a useless cover,

and to paint the world with euphemisms is to trust you
with dreams of escaping into worlds fueled by fluorescent lights
tall hotels and Hi8 video tapes of smiling rodents in coffee shops,
with dreams of infinity and guitars that looked like fire
and driving uselessly on the highway of blue dimensions
for spare change.

I never trusted you
with your fears when thunder and lightning struck
that they would murder you
and I
believed you
(but only for a second),
until I realized I was driving into the Brooklyn Battery Tunnel
under an awning of blue.
You painted it gold
(when you said you were tolerant);

when you said you couldn't paint,
you were right and you would fall face first
into the New York City Transit System and
nothing
would be there to take you out
(when you said you were tolerant).

The sidewalks were by now covered with vaseline
and memories of thinking you were at all close to me,
but
gold became a useless cover,

and I realized you were as human as I had ever imagined you to be.
Sometimes you would dance in public all the time sometimes
this was a lie
sometimes you admitted you weren't sure about the Dali painting sometimes
this was a joke sometimes
you would've been perfectly willing to paint the sky
gold,
but sometimes blue or red and you
realized you had
no one.

You didn't know if I of all people could handle this;
you made a mistake, I made more
on the road to fame, I sang
"it's a game of luck, and a game of lies.
I'm not willing to apologize."

But why not?
I made a mistake, you made more;
who cares?

In the end, who knows
what was right and what was wrong, because
in the end, you made mistakes, I made mistakes,
there were never three (there were), but
at the end of the day, we are only able to do so much
before something else has begun,

and when I was puzzled, because things kept ending and going away,
you might've told me the same exact thing
because we are all waiting
to go on a trip to the far corners of the human eye

with coffee and Food Network and tea dedicated to the Grateful Dead
and screaming at Rachael Ray and stepping on ice cubes
and standing by the light
and ending things and beginning things new and old and
pizza
and stombolis
and celebrating Brooklyn with awesome movie scores
and coming home two minutes later to write a song about
outsourcing
and waiting to watch obscure Canadian comedy
and videotaping near the end with green lights blue lights
and finally turning on the real lights to film
the closing sequence,

and then sleeping
waiting for the morning
so we could film
the epilogue.
Track Name: Motion Dream
I think I'm falling.
I live my life in a moving car.
Motion surrounds me, like a dream of sorts.
I think my life is changing.
I think I'm looking out the window, and seeing nothing.
I think I live inside this moving car.
We go nowhere, we live nowhere.
I think my moods are swinging towards the dream state.

And we live in fragments.
We live in movements.
Never staying.
Never staying still.
Never finding the perfect place to stay and watch the ocean.
Because there's nothing better to do than sit and watch the ocean.

We live in fragments.
We live in movements.
Never dreaming.
Never living.

I found out you were in my dream,
when I spoke to the ones who make dreams happen.
You were a vampire, in a vampire suit,
drawing my blood, waiting to be erased
from the lives of everyone you trust.
And it hurts me always, that no one knows but me
that you live far outside the city,
where no one stays the same.